Blue Christmas
by TigressDreamer
Summary: How could everything go so wrong? They were happy and so in love and everything was perfect. Gazing at the diamond ring in his hand while Christmas music plays in the background, Bog King can't feel any holiday joy. (Rated for a bit of language.)


**Disclaimer for the entire story: Sadly, I do not own Strange Magic, although I do have the DVD that I play once a week.**

 **There is a portion of sorrow/depression. If you don't tear up just a little then I didn't write this right but don't despair! I assure you that you will probably laugh at the end because I can't end a story on a sad note. Constructive advice is appreciated but please refrain from criticism. Enjoy!**

 **(Slight edit as of February 6, 2020)  
**

He can't believe this happened. Even hours later, it just doesn't seem possible. It seems like a nightmare but the hole in the apartment wall and his still throbbing right hand assure him that it isn't.

Taking another large drink from the whiskey bottle, Bog keeps staring at the diamond-studded golden band shimmering in the Christmas tree's lights with the hope that it might have the answer to his heartbreak.

Nothing will ever be the same again. He knows it with certainty. She took up so much room in his heart and with her departure, he knows that he will never love again.

Why? What could he have done to prevent this?

It's his fault, he knows that. No matter what his family and friends try to say it won't change the fact that he caused this to happen. She would still be here with him if he had just done something different.

Maybe if he hadn't of worked late last night. Maybe if he didn't take those extra shifts these past several weeks. Maybe she wouldn't be gone if he had been here.

It was all for her, for them, but now it's completely worthless. The money just isn't worth it now, now that they didn't have a future.

He didn't have the heart to tell anyone yet. Soon, he'll have to tell them and their holiday will be dashed in sorrow and mourning as well. No, just a little longer. Let them enjoy their Christmas Eve a little longer.

His poor mother. She's been so excited for the newest member of their little family. Already she called to remind them of the Christmas Eve dinner that she's making but he let it run on the voice mail. Her comment about knowing they need to spend as much alone time as possible before the joyful but stressful time ahead had only served to make him break down in wailing tears.

How could he tell her? It'll break her heart. She's been so strong after the death of his father and having to raise him all alone.

He'll have to leave soon. He knows that. He can't let his mother think that the worst has also happened to him. He can't leave her all alone.

Draining the rest of the bottle, Bog stares around the gaily-decorated living room. Everywhere he looks is only a reminder of what he's lost. The Christmas tree they decorated with several "first" ornaments to celebrate. He chuckles slightly at the memory about him saying that they were a stupid idea before presenting the one that he bought. She had punched him for his trick before kissing him, a kiss that almost led to a heated night but they had to refrain.

He sniffles and tries to hold down the new tears springing up into his crystal blue eyes. He couldn't bear to open those carefully wrapped presents underneath the tree now. It hurts too much knowing that the others will be left untouched.

Her knickknacks strewn on the bookshelves and even her favorite novels next to his burn in his sight. The smell of her in the bedroom and her clothes in the closet make him pause from getting up from his sloppy position on the couch. Even in the bathroom, her presence invades his senses with her subtle smell.

He needs to take a shower to get the smell of whiskey off of him and that also means that he needs to change his clothes but how could he go anywhere in the apartment without being reminded that she is gone forever?

Forever.

He's lost her for forever!

He collapses into more tears and buries his face into his large hands. Her wedding band digs into his wet cheek but he can't feel it in his grief. Trying to contain his tears is a lost cause and the empty whiskey bottles protest their acquaintance with the floor as he buries his tall form on the couch pillows.

If only this horrific nightmare before Christmas would end!

His grief doesn't permit him to acknowledge the sound at the front door or the sound of the deadbolt unlocking. He doesn't notice as the afternoon light invades the darkened apartment or the figure stepping inside.

"Bog? Bog! What's wrong?"

Gentle but firm fingers pull on his broad shoulders until he sits properly on the couch. Amber eyes burn into his before they quickly inspect him for any injury. The burning orbs shift slightly to the two empty whiskey bottles laying on the floor before returning to the stunned crystal water orbs in front of her.

"Bog? What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"Marianne," he breathes before clearing his clogged throat. "What...what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" Marianne repeats incredulously. "Didn't Roland give you my message?"

"Yeah, he did," Bog sniffs. "This morning when I went to your apartment. You weren't answering your phone."

"Now, why are you drunk and crying? Is it connected to me?" she questions at his shifty look. "I'm sorry that I'm late and worried you. I was sure that I would be back a few hours before we have to leave for Christmas Eve dinner but I didn't take flight delays into account. I know we had plans for this morning and I'm sorry that we have to skip them."

"What are you talking about?" Bog asks.

"What do you mean what am I talking about? You said that Roland gave you my message," Marianne comments.

"Yes, he did. Too bad you didn't tell me yourself," he growls, anger replacing his grief. "It's very clever of you to use someone else to do your dirty work. I can't believe I foolishly trusted you and actually thought you loved me. You're in a class all by yourself, tough girl."

"Oh, come on, Bog! You're being a drama king," she huffs. "I'm sorry that I couldn't wait for you to get off of work but if I didn't catch that flight right then and there, then I wouldn't have been able to make it."

Bog stares up at the irritated valkyrie warrior with her hands on her hips and can barely keep from swooning like a love-sick fool. Even after she ripped his heart out and returned to stomp on it, he couldn't help but still love her. She's still the most beautiful woman in the whole world with her short brunette hair in its usual complete disorder, her amber eyes snapping and crackling from the fire lodged within her breastbone, and even the stubborn dirt lodged underneath her fingernails from her job add to her wildness. Heaven help anyone who dared stir her anger...or fall in love with her.

"Look, Marianne," he sighs. "You made it clear from the message you gave me that you didn't want me to call you ever again. It's Christmas, so if you're here for your stuff then have a bit of mercy and get it over with."

"What are you talking about? I know I write terribly when I'm in a hurry but there is no way you can mistake "Don't call my phone because it's dead" for "Don't call me ever again". I'm this close to calling Griselda and having you checked out at the hospital," Marianne warns before noticing his shocked look. "On second thought, get your coat. We're going to the emergency room. You've obviously have been working too hard."

He blinks as he watches the valkyrie warrior turn into a mother hen at his continued silence. She grabs his abandoned coat on the floor near the door where he left it and eases his arms into the fabric before returning to the door to grab his boots. Even her fussing at his rumpled clothing as she forces his large feet into confinement doesn't completely register to his flatlining brain.

What just happened? Or more precisely, what is happening? Bog couldn't think of the last time he was this confused.

Just this morning everything was perfect when he woke up. Everything was fine even as he went to Marianne's apartment to find out why she hadn't come over to his apartment or why she wasn't answering his phone calls. Then he had to deal with the building manager in all his slimy glory because Marianne asked him to relay a message, a horrific message that the blonde ponce took great joy in delivering. Hours and hours of misery, pain, and sorrow later, Marianne shows up at his apartment as if everything is okay.

The feeling of Marianne tugging him to his feet finally snaps him out of his daze.

"What a minute! I mean, I love you, Marianne, but I'm won't be played again," he states firmly. "Roland told me everything you told him to tell me and now you're acting as if it doesn't matter what you said."

"Told you?" she growls, making him gulp at her twitching eye. "Just what did Roland tell you?"

"He said...," Bog starts before stopping, her calmness scaring him into sobriety.

"He said what, Bog?" Marianne prods.

"That you told him to tell me that we are through and that I shouldn't call you ever again or you'd call the cops for harassment. That you're tired of being with a weakling instead of a real man and that I'd better leave you alone when you come back from visiting your family," Bog mutters, not caring to remember everything else that was said. "There's more but that's the gist of it."

Shivers race up Bog's spine as Marianne releases him to pace rapidly in front of the Christmas tree. Her gesturing hands and growled-out threats make him cover his crotch protectively and retreat behind the couch. He's sure that the first creature that she meets that has male equipment won't be male much longer.

"I didn't tell him anything! I just gave Roland a letter to give to you when you stopped by and I even paid him to do it," she growls out. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted him but I figured that he's greedy enough to do a simple job like that. I would have dropped the letter off here but the airport is in the opposite direction and I barely made it in time as it was."

"A letter? Why didn't you just call me?" Bog questions.

"Like I said in the letter...Oh, nevermind, I'll just explain from the beginning," Marianne huffs before laughing at Bog's fearful position. "I'm not going to bite, Bog."

"But you do punch," he mentions.

"True," she amends with a smile. "Well, what happened yesterday is this. Sunny called me when I was walking home from work and asked if I could take an immediate flight back home. He really wanted me to be there because he planned on proposing to Dawn at Dad's annual Christmas Eve breakfast. You know how Sunny gets when he's excited-nervous."

Bog nods his understanding. He hasn't actually met any of Marianne's family in-person yet since they lived so far away but he knew the younger sister's boyfriend pretty well from Marianne's video chats.

"I couldn't miss out on seeing my baby sister's engagement, so I agreed. That and to make sure that Sunny couldn't worry himself out of actually proposing. I went to call your voicemail to tell you since you were still working but in my excitement...well, I walked into a telephone pole," she mutters, glaring at his laughter. "It's not funny! Bog, I swear if you don't stop laughing right this minute I'm going punch you again and break your jaw this time! That's better. My phone went flying and landed into a slush puddle. At the moment, it's sitting in a bag of rice back in my apartment with the hope that it might work again."

"Okay, so you didn't answer my calls because your phone is broke. That's understandable," Bog comments. "How did you manage to get a plane ticket if you couldn't call the airport?"

"Sunny paid for it and had it waiting at the airport. He was going to pay one for you too but I told him that you couldn't make it since your boss has given you so much work," Marianne answers. "I explained everything I just said and that I should be back sometime after noon our time in the letter I wrote after I stuffed a few things in my overnight bag. I hailed a taxi and gave Roland the letter to give to you when you come over. I knew that you would since you're such a worrier."

"I'm not a worrier," he grumbles. "So, you aren't planning on breaking up with me?"

"Of course not! Why would me and Griselda spend nearly twenty-three hours in that over-stuffed attic just to find this if I wanted to break up with you?" she asks, pulling an engraved golden ring out of her pocket.

Bog stares at the golden band in shock. He hasn't seen that ring except in pictures. It's his father's wedding ring.

"Did you just propose to me?" he questions.

"Well, damn. That didn't go as planned," she mutters, scratching the top of her head. "If you don't want to get married then that's fine. I love you and I just want to be with you, Bog, even if it's not as your wife."

"If I didn't want to get married then why did I work overtime just to afford this?" Bog chuckles, opening his clenched fist to reveal the diamond ring. "I even got your father's blessing three weeks ago."

"So that's why Dad made sure that Dawn couldn't puppy-dog-eye me into staying longer," Marianne remarks. "Does this mean that you accept my proposal, Mr King?"

"Only if you accept mine, Miss Shimmer," he counters.

"That's Mrs King," she corrects.

Bog laughs as Marianne soars over the couch and tackles his taller form into a bear hug. It's so good to have his tough girl back. There's no way that he's going to let her go again.

"By the way, Bog," she murmurs, scrunching her nose at the alcoholic perfume. "Why didn't you just call me at Dad's? You have his number and I've never taken you for the sort to just give up without a fight."

"I kind of stopped thinking when Roland got done saying everything and I may have overreacted," he mumbles sheepishly.

"May have? I nearly thought someone had died with the way you were carrying on when I walked in," Marianne comments. "You said that Roland had more to say. Just what else was it?"

"He may have alluded to the two of you having an affair," Bog mutters.

"What! And you believed him?" she yells, pushing him back enough to stare up into his face. "Bog, when have I ever given you a reason to believe that I would cheat on you?"

"I'm sorry, Marianne! It's not you, I swear," he insists. "It's just that Roland is so perfect and handsome and..."

"Sounds like you're planning on marrying him instead," Marianne deadpans.

"What! No!" Bog yells in horror. "I don't know what I was thinking. He made it sound so convincing at the time and even brought up the fact that I've only been in your apartment a handful of times since we started dating six months ago and that we've always hanged out at my apartment instead of yours. I'm really sorry, Marianne, I shouldn't have thought that of you. Not that I truly thought that you did it but I thought that you might have wanted to. Oh crap! That sounds much worse. I'm so..."

"Bog, I love you," she interrupts, kissing his pointed nose. "You are a silly, overreacting, drama king who enjoys tormenting yourself in that vast brain of yours. I'm not mad at you since I know that Roland can implant his own demented thoughts into a person's head and make you think it's yours. I didn't tell you about every reason why we don't hang out at my crummy hole-in-the-wall apartment because you are also a fiercely protective, hard-hitting, and no-nonsense brawler and I don't want you to go to jail for assault."

"Has Roland been harassing you?" he asks sharply.

"He's slick enough for the building owner to think that he's just doing his job," Marianne mutters. "I've reported him plenty of times since I moved in and I can't wait until my lease is up next month. I'm almost certain that he's been entering my apartment when I'm not there and it's actually my true motive for keeping all my important things here. Well, other than I like the aesthetics of my stuff mingling with yours."

Bog blushes at the sultry look accompanying the last statement. She definitely knows how to derail his anger.

He had always felt that Roland was a creep every time that he'd see the guy but he just thought that was his own insecurities talking. He can't believe that he let that jerk play him and make him really believe that Marianne didn't want him.

Maybe the real jerk is him. He should have trusted Marianne enough to at least try to talk to her. He does love her, after all, and if they are getting married then he needs to act like a partner all of the time instead of an insecure bachelor some of the time.

Bog grunts as Marianne hits his shoulder. She also knows how to detect his self-deprecating thoughts and he grins sheepishly at her annoyed glare.

"I got an idea," Marianne murmurs.

"What kind of idea?" he questions suspiciously.

"An idea that has the delightful side-effect of royally pissing Roland off," she remarks, giggling at his evil smile. "My apartment sucks but your apartment is too far away from my job, which we've discussed before. There is another place that is big enough for us to live together but close enough to both of our jobs. Griselda hasn't found another renter yet, has she?"

"Not yet. Mom would be ecstatic for us to move in there," Bog comments. "She hates having to rent out the main house but it's too big for just her and it was too far away from my old job. However, Mom doesn't agree with "shacking up" even if we are engaged to be married."

"I know but that's not my idea. I was just making sure that your childhood home is readily available. My idea is that it's rather romantic to be married with Elvis as a witness, especially on Christmas," Marianne hints. "We could take the RV and get to Las Vegas in about twelve hours."

"It'd be a lot quicker if we fly," he remarks.

"You know that your mother hates flying," she scolds. "Anyway, all we need is the usual government identification information, seventy-seven dollars for the marriage license, and it's best to fill out an online marriage pre-application to make the process go quicker. We can get a marriage license within an hour of being in Las Vegas. Add sixty dollars in cash for the minister's fee and a few hundred dollars for whichever wedding package with Elvis that we choose and we'll be married in less than twenty-four hours."

"How long have you been planning this?" Bog chuckles.

"Dad had muttered something about eloping in Vegas to Sunny when Dawn was rattling off wedding plans to me as they were driving me back to the airport," Marianne admits with a blush. "It buzzed in my head like dragonflies the entire flight and when I was wondering out loud about it at the terminal during a delay, an elderly couple who was waiting to be picked up had thought that it was romantic and had their son look up the information for me on his phone when he arrived."

"And you call me impulsive," he teases. "But you have to work the twenty-sixth."

Bog chuckles as Marianne leaves his embrace to grab his cell phone from its place on the kitchen counter.

"Hello, Mrs Plum? It's Marianne Shimmer. I'm sorry to call you at such a time and I know I promised to take the shift but I really need the twenty-sixth off. No, no, everything is fine. I'm just going to Las Vegas to get married," Marianne announces, holding the phone away as far as possible at the resulting squeal. "Of course, Mr Plum. Thank you very much. Tell Mrs Plum that I'll make sure to bring her back some souvenirs. Yes, yes, I'll see you in a week. Bye."

"Clever girl!" Bog praises once she ends the phone call.

"Of course," she preens. "What are you still doing just standing there? Go take a shower. You know I love you but you look and smell terrible. I'll get our suitcases packed and call Griselda."

"What about everything you'll need?" he asks. "And what about money?"

"I keep everything important here," Marianne reminds before pointing to the bookshelf. "If you had ever tried reading my Shakespeare books instead of snubbing your nose at them, you would have noticed that they're actually hidden safes. I've been saving the money for a car but this is more important. So, get showering. Now!"

Bog laughs as his newly-engaged fiancee and soon-to-be wife pushes him towards the bathroom with fierce determination as Elvis sings in the background about having a blue Christmas for the thousandth time in a row. That doesn't apply to him anymore because he is having the best Christmas of his life.

.

.

.

.

And it was the best Christmas.

Not only did the wedding bells ring for them but Sunny and Dawn had thought that a fairytale wedding in Las Vegas on Christmas Day was too romantic to pass up. Meeting up at the exact same wedding chapel was an unexpected surprise for the sisters and their grooms but a delightful surprise for sure.

An undelightful surprise came the next morning as the newlyweds searched for their awol widowed parents in the vast city. The pair was completely unrepentant at their disappearance once they were discovered inhabiting a popular casino, even as they protested at being forced to cash in their winnings.

And the fate of the blonde grinch that nearly ruined Christmas? Well, he was caught inside Marianne's apartment by the building owner who had opened the door for Mrs Plum to retrieve the store's main key.

Mr Plum had dutifully recorded everything for the newlyweds to enjoy once they returned. Because after all, it's not every Christmas a birthday-suited man is sent flying through the air into the cold snow outside.

Roland was justly charged with trespassing and indecent exposure but he preferred spending Christmas in jail compared to his ex-boss' fist.

As for Mrs Plum? She will take it to her grave that the store's main key was in her pocket the entire time.

 **Tea Blend.**


End file.
